The Way Her Yellow Runs

Ms Florence won’t stop talking. She speaks and speaks and speaks but the words just pass right through me as if I was never there, I’d say something like a ghost but Papa says ghosts are long and dangle-y and I’m pretty sure I’m nothing of the sort.

Looking down at my clothes, which I picked out on my own this morning, surprising Papa since by the time i rub the kinks and stones from my bones and rub my eyes awake, he too rises and there are clothes ready for me by the door. I run my fingers down the length of the pleated skirt, weaving it along the creases until my finger itches of the fabric.

“——-” Ms. Florence says.

“——————-?”

I do not hear it.

I choose not to because why should I?

The clouds have begun to move again and it’s rather kind of peaceful. I suppose I should pay more attention, after all this is my last year before going into the big girls school, and Calliope, the girl with the pigtails that never were balanced right on her head, always said that her sister had to try so hard to catch up because she never payed attention at the start. But I don’t think I’ll be placed in the same category as her older sister, I’ve always filled in the blanks on my own just fine so this time it will be no different.

Like Papa said, “With one continuous pattern it gives birth to a habit”.

Of course I didn’t know what “birth” was so had to ask him what he meant by that. It’s odd, he says it’s the creation of a being, like me. I’m a being yet I don’t remember when I started being or ended being UN-being. Is that a word? Probably not, though I like to make up words in my head sometimes, again, filling in the blanks where the right words should be.

“Persephone!” a voice calls up above me.

I turn my head up, looking away from my accustomed view of the school’s playground.

“You haven’t answered my question.” Ms. Florence says all red and boiling.

“Because I haven’t heard it, I cannot answer what I don’t know” I reply, confused at the look that rests on her face, all the scrunching.

“Persephone Rue don’t you dare talk to me like that,” she says with a sharpness to her voice now, no longer annoyingly screeched and metal similar to the fence that creaks on a windy day “you treat your elders with respect you hear me child?”

“Yes Ms. Florence,” I say before adding quickly “Sorry.”

She huffs out before stomping her tacky heels away from me, I let out a quick breathe.

They always say that.

I hate hate hate that word.

Child.

You’re just a child.

Looking at my reflection cast upon ,until it forms a blurry portrait, on the window, i see that yes, I am a child. My tiny body and little hands say that much, tilting my head the child in the portrait moves too. I sneer at it.

She is just a child after all.

The bells rings, casting a heavy rock on still water, the sound shudders through me as the rest of my classmates break into a collective of talking and screaming. I stand up from my seat, not bothered to join in on the birds chirping in the ones next to mine. Skirts feathering and hands flapping in the air, it’s too much and I’m too little remember?

I’m always too little.

Walking towards the further left wall, dodging the boys running around the tables in a makeshift attempt to play tag, I spot the glass box adorned with plants within. The peak of light traveling through the windows reflect against it, sending the posters and books into a soft green hue.

Pressing my face against the glass, I scrounge to find the bright red scales of Api, who is usually restless by this hour. Eyes flitting everywhere, I see nothing but green green and the occasional splotch of brown but no red. Pushing away from the glass, my hand-print marked softly against it before fading away, I frown as hope crushes against me until I can almost hear it laughing it pity.

I head towards the mess of bags and dig mine up before running out of the classroom without even saying the customary goodbye to all my other classmates. I doubt they would notice even if I put in the effort. No one has said goodbye back yet.

Bye Bye.

I reach the towering doors of the school, shoving it open and stepping out into the courtyard now scattered with children just like me. In all color, shapes and sizes. A few I spot towering among this, the adults- the parents -giants over minuscule ants.

Sticking my tongue out at them, I follow the cobblestones towards the bench sitting under the old tree, that sends the school daily doses of it’s yellow leaves by the hour. A smile spreads as my hands caress the rough bark, the tips of my fingertips feeling every ridge and hollow, every curve and bump of the ancient wood. It’s all familiar to me, the feel of it etched into my skin like a puzzle piece; one of two only ever recognizing the other when put together. I give the tree one last touch before crossing my legs and sitting at the very base, my legs squirming to find a comfortable position between the gnarled roots that rise from the ground, taking shape into the veins of the earth.

Eventually I settle and cross my feet one over the other, Papa knows to pick me up by the tree, I’ve set this routine out of the blue one day since the rush of bodies on the courtyard was exhausting to try and avoid. Here it’s just me and the tree, keeping company until I have to leave it again.

Slowly, my head falls to my chest and eyes follow through next, I can’t find the strength to pull it back up. The warmth comes over me until a drowsy hug finds it’s way inside me, and leaving my limbs limp and heavy like the roots themselves.

I am so very very tired.

I wonder when Papa will come.

ೃ⁀➷

“Seph we’re home” a voice in the dark calls out.

The murkiness surrounds me, until it slowly recedes as a shadow is to the rising sun. Rubbing my eyes I try to pry them open to find the source of this voice,the cadence of it gentle and lined with a peculiar husk.

“Oh hello Papa” I say to the figure smiling down at me.

“Morning sleepyhead.” he brushes his forehead onto mine, I giggle as the tips of his hair rest on my cheek.

I find myself braced against him, his strong firm arms carrying me all the way up the stairs of our home. I don’t remember falling asleep, or ever being picked up; I guess I should’ve waited for me to see him before letting the warmth take me, but it was too enticing and the tree was too sheltering, I had to.

“Alright I’m going to put you down now.” Papa says before carefully dropping me onto the carpeted floor.

I let out a yawn and try my hardest to keep my feet steady against the sway in my vision. Papa always takes forever to pry the door open, the stubborn lock never wanting to cooperate with it’s key. But finally, a triumphant sound clicks and the door swings open with a forceful shove.

“Ladies first mademoiselle” he bows.

I pull the hems of my skirt and fan them out before doing the same, mimicking his poise before sauntering in.

I hear Papa throw the keys onto the counters as I head towards the cabinet hiding just beside the front door, pulling off my black shoes before placing them with the others hiding under stuffed up shelves.

As I’m walking to my room I remember the day before me, before taking that nap the flood of it comes rushing as the remaining warmth that stayed and lingered fully goes away.

I remember Ms. Florence, but most of all I remember her words.

“Papa,” I call out in the middle of the hallway “why can’t I be an adult?”

Papa stops what he was doing, poking his head out from behind the kitchen counter with his eyes wide open and hair all ruffled.

“Interesting question,” he says after a beat “what possessed you to ask that Seph?”

“Because Ms. Florence said I’m just a kid” I reply, still trying to wrap my head around this idea brimming at the edges of my thoughts.

“Yes, she is not mistaken on this.” he says, rising slowly with that look still spread across his face clear as day.

“But what if I don’t want to be?” I place my hands on my hips, a hotness now springing up to my ears.

“It’s not something you can just decide.” he says.

“And why not?” I whine, “Can’t I just become an adult ;you can teach me!”

He shakes his head and walks around the counter, not breaking eye contact until he crouches right in front of me, noticing the tears pooling at the corners of my vision.

“Seph my love,” he softly wipes them away “time can only make you grow.”

“Then make time go faster so that I can stop being a kid.”

“I’m afraid that’s not how it works” he stands sighing “besides, being a kid is a whole lot better than whatever you think being an adult is.”

I roughly wipe the remaining tears away, my throat scratching for words yet to be said, but waiting.

“Papa,” I repeat, before he moves on “teach me to be like you.”

“You’ll regret asking that my love.”

“And why is that?” I reply, noticing the slump that seemed to follow his shoulders whenever the got the days got long and nights even longer.

“Just be who you are entirely in this moment OK?” he says turning around once more before competently walking away, cutting the cord of this conversation, leaving me utterly confused and thoroughly frustrated with Papa.

I storm my way back into the hallway, my heavy footsteps receding it’s force every step I take as I sit with the thought that’s formed completely, first a sluggish incomprehensible light bulb now turning solid and pestering until I realize; I just have to be like Papa.

That’s it, to be an adult I just have to see things the way he sees it right?

After all, Papa is the best adult I know and it doesn’t hurt to try this little change with someone I have already able to copy and mimic. A surge of pride flows through me, resting on the top of my head before running through my veins until it swarms all around me. I’m buzzing with a new challenge.

Opening the door to my little room, I throw my backpack onto my made bed, practically ripping off my clothes for a change to go somewhere out, leaving the abandoned fabric rumpled and scattered across the carpeted floor. I usually leave things like that, half forgotten and in heap of a mess, since every time I enter my room again everything is always back into it’s place like magic. I freeze midway from pulling my socks off.

“Magic? No that won’t do.” I say to no one in particular.

It can’t have been magic, and since I never pick things up , or really anywhere around the house Papa must’ve whisked the mess all away. Therefore that is what I have to do too, wave my wand say the magic words and take every piece of clothing and every stray hair and splinter and push place pull them back to their original position.

I smile to myself, I’m getting the hang of this and nothing is going to stop me. Turning around to observe the odd one sticking out, I retrace my actions and place my clothes in the hamper just at the end of the hallway before straightening my bed once more and grabbing a fresh set of clothes from my closet, making sure not the disturb the resting ones hanging in the dark, just like Papa does it.

Standing before the mirror in Papa’s room, I nod my head in satisfaction at the little get together I managed to put on me, a pair of shorts and loose shirt that smells of detergent and dust. Running back out, I grab a surprised Papa’s hand and yank him towards the front door, he almost spills the cup in his hand but that doesn’t concern me, adults are always on time and stick to their plans.

“Papa we must go to the park this very instant.” I say as I’m dragging him.

“Seph do stop pulling me you’re gonna rip my arm out.” he says whining like a child, seems I must be doing something right.

Taking my hand away, I stand by the front door a put on the shoes I despise the most, one adorned with the laces that always twist and turn around my hands the wrong way, but I have to do it, I have to get this right because all of Papa’s shoes have these nasty little worms on them.

“Need help with that?” Papa kneels before me, about to reach out to grab the laces and twirl his fingers in an odd little dance leaving it hanging in two perfect loops, but I push his hand away with a shake of my head.

“No thank you I can do just fine on my own.” I wrap the laces in chaos, only one loop forms and the other string lays unattached and drooping against my feet. It will have to do for now.

I stand up until I tower just above his crown, he looks up at me with the same perplexed look that has seemed to etch itself on his face.'

“Well, let’s go then.” I say, turning the knob on the door before walking out, I hear the jangle of keys like chimes ringing across the empty corridor before a solid shut, a final sound to silence all sounds.

I don’t look to see if he follows, only walk forward head held high with new skin on my bones and new eyes in my sockets.

Papa’s footsteps trail behind mine, I turn to spot him looking at the empty space above my head. The harsh light of the corridor sitting on the panes of his face like a haggard statue, making the darkness under his eyes very prominent. The skip in my step halters. Perhaps I must be tired to be an adult, to have that weight on my shoulders too; i droop my shoulders down and relax my eyes, letting them fall hallway shut the world around me darkens like Papa’s eyes too.

ೃ⁀➷

The nearby park is relatively quiet, save for the occasional rush of cars by the wild grass and the hum that rests upon the city by the hour, like a collective breathe and release from the constant movement that lives between the towering skyscrapers.

Papa still walks behind me, not having said much after we left and said little on the drive here.

I remember the people that rushed past in the blur of the window, the adults, much more of them this time, also in all shapes in sizes but with a different kind of aura. A sort of…fuzziness that I have to absolutely achieve.

“Papa?” I stop in my tracks, the crush of tiny stones halting with me too.

“Yes Seph? Any new odd demands today?” he says stepping beside me, hands in his pockets.

“One last one,” I say looking up at him again, this needs to change “please put me on your shoulders.” or in your shoes, but I don’t think adults have that saying done right.

He raises his eyebrows but reaches out for me anyways. Grabbing me under my arms he hoists me up with ease until I settle comfortably on the strength of them, the rush being lifted up so quickly getting to my head and resting into my stomach.

I see much higher now, nothing but the sky and sporadic spots of bird look down on my now, I’m getting closer to it, shedding the kid in me little my little until I am little no more. Craning my neck, Papa begins the walk again, oddly silent but I don’t worry, for I have stepped over this and I have proved them all wrong.

“Papa look I’m an adult now!” I say, all laughing with bubbles rising into my blood this time.

“Oh is that so?” he says below me. Ha, below me.

“Yes,” I say confidently “there is no denying it I see what you see and feel what you feel.”

Papa does no reply to this.

I remove my hands from the top of his head and place them on his eyes instead. He stops and lets out a surprised chuckle.

“Dear, you have a knack for setting us up for catastrophe you know that?” he says.

“See” I say, hands over his soft warm skin “now that you can’t see I can see for you Papa.”

A calmness settles as a blanket over the two of us, the chorus of leaves a melody to accompany my becoming, I have become and will stay this way.

“Papa, I can see for you now.” I whisper to the sky, the clouds have danced again but I don’t pay much attention, they never look up so neither will I.

I feel him smile under my hands, he cannot see this but I don’t smile back.

THE END.